


Learning Brave

by profound-boning (farawaystardust)



Series: Learning Brave [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Canon-Typical Violence, Destiel Reverse Bang 2017, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Mafia Castiel, Mafia Dean, Marijuana, Mechanic Dean, Non-Penetrative Sex, Omega Dean Winchester, Recreational Drug Use, Scent Bonding, Shotgunning, True Mates, star-crossed lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-31 00:04:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10887720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farawaystardust/pseuds/profound-boning
Summary: I am always a groomjust learning to pull my own weightwithout wishing my past weighs less than it does.Learning Braveis a hand-me-down suit from Terrified As Hell.from "Elbows" by Andrea Gibson





	Learning Brave

**Author's Note:**

> Created for the [destiel reverse bang](http://deancasreversebang.tumblr.com/) thanks to [Jay's](http://nonexistenz.tumblr.com/) beautiful art!  
> lj post [here](http://destielrb.livejournal.com/26173.html)
> 
> also huge thanks to my beta kat for being a voice of reason and support (ri and ashley deserve shoutouts, too! I love y'all!) 

I am always a groom  
just learning to pull my own weight  
without wishing my past weighs less than it does.  
Learning Brave  
is a hand-me-down suit from Terrified As Hell.

Dress me in whatever will get me  
through the door of my heart.

Get my faith in us under your skin.  
Hold my stubborn in the palm of your free.  
Tell whoever is resting their elbows  
beside you tonight,  
_Thank god you never got braces._  
_Your bite looks like a city skyline._  
_I bet you’ll leave that kind of mark on the world._

from “Elbows” by Andrea Gibson

John Winchester usually arrives home late on Fridays. Happy hour deals and two-for-one late night specials at the bars and all that. Normally it means that Dean has to come home right away after school to start making dinner, since Sam will get a ride with his buddy Kevin after their soccer practice. They’ll eat together and do homework and Sam will go to bed while Dean waits up for John. Tonight, when Dean hears his stumbling up the porch steps at midnight, he’s a little confused and a little resigned. There goes a peaceful night of TV.

When John trips over the threshold and into their house, Dean realizes he can’t detect any booze in his father’s scent. So it isn’t alcohol making his steps uneven. John’s been beaten, a bruise on one cheek and a cut on the other, and he’s clearly limping.

“Sit down here, Dad,” Dean says, moving off of the couch. John refuses his assistance, throwing his jacket onto the floor and lowering himself to half-sit, half-lay there. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

“You gonna do something about it, boy?”

“Oh, give it a rest,” Dean sighs and retreats for a glass of water.

John treats him like a child even though at eighteen he carries more responsibilities than most adults. Not that John acknowledges any of that. Sammy helps where he can, but at this point, Dean is more parent to him than older brother. They both expect Dean to do the work of a second adult, but John never treats him like an equal. That disregard hurts, and hurts all the more due to his suspicion that his dad would look at him differently if he wasn’t an Omega. Everyone knows Omegas are meant to be submissive and invisible.

Returning from the kitchen, Dean places the water and some aspirin within arm’s reach, and stands back to look at his father’s prone form.

As if losing his mom to a house fire as a kid wasn’t bad enough, Dean’s had the special joy of losing his father slowly to grief and vice. Alcohol mostly, but other nights John’s scent is so far off from normal that Dean wonders about harder drugs, the sex with strange betas and omegas, and that’s not to mention John’s choice of employer. They’d moved around a lot in those first few years before the move to Austin. John hadn’t been able to hold down any jobs until he apparently hooked up with a criminal group.

“Was this Gordon Walker and his crew?”

“What the hell do you think you’re talking about?” John snaps at him, but his eyes betray something that might be real fear.

“Come off it. You’ve been working for him for years, probably since we got here. You spend a lot of time with him, even though I know you hate that Azazel guy.”

“Stop. Stop talking.” John shuts his eyes and grimaces. “Just—. Yes, okay, I work with him. Odd jobs.”

“So what went wrong?”

John won’t look at Dean. “I owe him money.”

“Not enough to work with a crime boss, you gotta owe the guy money too?”

John says nothing.

“How much are we talkin’?”

“More than you’ve got in your piggy bank,” John sneers.

It’s a typical put-down, a mix of 'you’re just a punk kid' and 'you’re a worthless Omega.' Dean rolls his eyes. He’s used to it by now. “Creative, Dad, really. Is it too much to work off? What’s the point of beating you up?”

John shifts on the couch. “I’ll work it off. Beating’s just… a conversation. Good old fashioned Alpha-to-Alpha talk. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

John must owe quite a bit of money for a warning like this. If they’ve left him alive and able enough to work, they’re expecting him to pay them back somehow. But Dean _knows_ his dad, and he knows that John will just keep digging this grave for himself. And then what happens? If they don’t care about beating John, would they care about his family? Will they come to the high school and threaten him? Or, God forbid, threaten Sam?

“Call them. You’ve got to try and make it right.” Dean grabs John’s wallet from his jacket pocket and searches until he finds Gordon’s phone number scribbled on a scrap of paper.

“You’re out of your mind,” John laughs.

“Dad, don’t be stupid.” He gestures with the paper. “Please, _please_ fix this.”

 _“Try and make it right,”_ John mocks him in a high-pitched voice. “Call them yourself if you think it’s such a good idea.”

“Well, it’s me or it’s you, ‘cause it sure as hell ain’t gonna be Sammy.”

Dean stares at his father through the tense silence that follows. It’s becoming clear that John’s not going to do a damned thing. He’s going to put them all in harm’s way over his stupid debts. If John won’t get his shit together and fix this, then Dean will have to do it himself. The thought of taking on whatever it is John does for a notorious gang is petrifying, but what choice does he have? He’s got to protect Sammy, and he’s going to try to protect John, even if he is just some weak Omega.

“Yeah.” He won’t let his voice shake. “That’s what I thought.”

John grits his teeth. “You can’t be serious,” he spits out. Dean glares at him. “They’ll eat you alive.”

“This is the only way and you know it.” After copying Gordon’s phone number, he throws John’s wallet back onto the table. “These are dangerous people. And I won’t let you get Sammy hurt.”

Heart pounding as he climbs the stairs to Sam’s dark bedroom, Dean knows what he needs to do. He just needs the guts to do it.

Kid’s passed out, long limbs sprawled all over his light blue sheets. Dean grabs a duffel bag from the closet, then pulls Sam’s clothes from where they’re hanging and folds them into bundles inside the bag. Next he moves to the set of drawers for more clothing, the desk for his books, and the bathroom in the hall for his toiletries. There’s only two weeks left in the school year; that’s gotta be good enough to let him advance a grade at a new school in the fall. Sam won’t like it. He’s done the last six years in one place and he’s got friends here now, a spot on the soccer team, his name on the honor roll. All the things that look good on a college application. Sammy has big dreams; Dean hates to take that away from him, to throw him back into being the new kid. But Sam will survive one more move. Dean doesn’t plan for his brother to ever come back to Austin.

Sam shifts on the bed when Dean reenters the room, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. “Dean? Wha—?”

“I don’t have time to explain this as well as I should, Sammy.” Dean sits heavily on the mattress next to his kid brother. God how he loves him. Dean is ready to do whatever it takes to protect him. Sam is rumpled with sleep but he squints crossly at the use of the nickname.

“It’s _Sam,_ and what d’you need to explain?”

Dean sighs. “I know that you know about Dad’s work here. Why we’ve been able to stick around for so long.”

Sam sobers immediately. “For—for that crime lord Gordon Walker and his group of psychos? Is he in trouble?”

“Yeah,” Dean admits, twisting his fingers together. “Apparently that’s where the money for the house came from, for our school stuff, and all his damned booze—”

“Fuck.” Sam runs a hand through his stupidly long hair. “What are we gonna do?”

Dean pauses at that. “We’re gonna go live with Uncle Bobby for a while.”

“Bobby? What? Why? Dean, I have school—”

“You’ll be safe there.”

Sam doesn’t fight back as Dean leads him into the living room, where John is still sitting, staring angrily at the wall. Dean tosses Sam’s duffel bag into their father’s lap and fishes in the bowl on the kitchen counter. “You’re taking Sam to Sioux Falls. He’ll be safe with Bobby.” He locates the keys for the Impala and places them firmly in John’s hand. “Go now, and call me when you get there.”

Sam’s eyes are big and wet. “You’re not coming with us? Dean, this is crazy. You can’t just—”

“Yes, I can.” Dean takes two steps towards his brother, just barely fifteen years old, and wraps his arms around his scrawny shoulders. “If this keeps you safe,” he mutters into Sam’s temple. Sam doesn’t smell like anything yet, just clean and unpresented. Dean hugs him tight and prays they’ll be reunited eventually. “That makes this worth it to me.”

“What are you going to do?” Sam winds his arms around Dean and clutches the back of his shirt.

“I’ll be here. I’ll make it right.”

Sam clenches his fists harder. “Dean, you _can’t._ What if they hurt you?”

“They won’t be able to hurt _you,”_ he replies simply, releasing Sam from his embrace. For a few seconds it seems like Sam won’t let go, but then John is there, pulling Sam towards the front door.

Dean puts his face in his hands when Sam’s shouting finally quiets, when the roar of the Impala’s engine moves away from their street.

John never makes it back to their little house in Austin. He calls to say that Sam is safely with Bobby, but then he wraps the Impala around a pole on the interstate.

Dean never learns if it was intentional or not. He doesn’t have time to think about it. He’s got work to do.

**Ten Years Later**

“Dean. So glad you could make it.”

 _Like I have a choice,_ Dean thinks but doesn’t dare say. Gordon’s cronies Alastair and Azazel are here too, the latter lounging on a couch while Alastair stands just over Dean’s shoulder. He tries not to fidget with discomfort.

Gordon’s voice when he’s giving Dean a job to do always makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. His boss basically has two personalities: 'I’m buttering you up so you won't argue with me over this next job' and 'I’m yelling at you for messing it up.' Dean isn’t sure which one is worse.

It’s ironic that Gordon is so smug all the time when he’s not the one pulling the strings. Dean knows he’s been transporting stolen goods and drugs and probably worse for State Senator Richard Roman, the real mastermind behind this organization. But he knows to keep that little tidbit of information to himself. Ten years in this life mean Dean’s gotten real good at not asking questions and not making waves.

It’s been a decade since Dean called his dad’s old employer and let him know that Dean would now be the one working off John Winchester’s debt. It had been an uphill battle at first. Gordon looked at him and saw him as just a kid, just an Omega, just like John did. It turned out that Dean was faster and sharper than just about anyone Gordon had working for him. With time, Dean’s won their respect as someone who can keep his mouth shut, can do quick math, and has a keen eye and fast trigger finger. Living at the complex means Dean has all the time in the world to practice fighting and using weapons. They even have him working at a mechanic’s not too far away so he can maintain the gang’s vehicles and other supplies. And while he’s still “the Omega,” it makes him damn near invisible to most people’s threat radar. No one suspects him; no one expects anything from him.

Gordon tips a keyring into his hand, the one for the larger of the two black trucks the gang owns. “Take the back roads and go to the warehouse at 34th Avenue. Knock on the side door three times and then go back to the truck. Sit in the driver’s seat until someone knocks on your door, and then you can drive away.” Gordon smirks at him. “Not too hard, right, pet?”

“No, sir.”

“Good.” Gordon smiles that creepy plastic smile at Dean. “Report back to me when you return.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean replies and turns for the door. Alastair slaps his ass on the way out and Dean works to repress a shudder until he’s left the room.

The truck rattles and rumbles down the dirt road. It’s so dark Dean can’t see a thing outside of the visibility granted by the headlights. He keeps both hands firmly on the wheel and looks at the odometer again to check how far he’s gone.

Tires screech suddenly from off to his left. Another large vehicle, maybe a van, crashes into the driver’s side, the door crunching inwards on impact. Dean’s tires squeal as his truck skids nearly off the road entirely from the force of the collision. He brakes hard, manages to stop the truck in a controlled slide, and gulps for air. He’s flustered, startled by the crash, and hopes like hell for an easy way out of this. He’s got a gun in the waistband of his jeans but he doesn’t want to use it, especially not if this was an accident, a genuine traffic incident and not someone out to get him.

He hears the vehicle that hit him idling before a door opens. He opens his own and leans out into the darkness.

Barely illuminated by the van’s headlights stands a tall man, White and sturdily built. He’s got dark hair and he’s wearing a suit of all things. It’s a little rumpled now, but black pants and jacket with a white shirt and a tie, maybe blue. The guy could be bad news or could just want to trade insurance information. The front end of his van is crushed from the impact with Dean’s truck.

 _Gordon’s truck. Roman’s truck,_ he thinks. _What will they say when they find out?_

Dean swings his legs and gingerly climbs out. In a situation like this, he’s unsure how much to emphasize his Omega presentation. He should probably play meek—judging from his posture, this man is likely an Alpha—but he doesn’t want to appear to be too weak. If this man thinks he could overpower and harm him, then that’s a problem. But if Dean can get out of this by giving the guy just another story to tell his work buddies about how Omegas are bad drivers, then he’s happy to play up being sweet and docile.

“Hi,” he finally says, keeping his eyes focused on the man’s shiny black shoes instead of his face.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean freezes. How the hell does this guy know his name?

“I’m here on behalf of Fergus Crowley. He’s a businessman of sorts, rather like your Dick Roman.”

Dean’s heart picks up. He straightens up to look into the man’s face and realizes he’s taken two slow steps closer to Dean. He’s definitely an Alpha. Bright blue eyes stare Dean down, cold and blank.

“The problem is,” the man continues. “Crowley doesn’t want this truck to be delivered to Dick Roman tonight. And when Crowley wants things to disappear, he calls me.”

“And just who the hell are you, then?”

“I’m Castiel. And you, Dean, have no hope of fighting me.”

“That’s what they all say.” He can take this Castiel guy. Any rival of Roman’s is certainly a dangerous person, but people have been underestimating Dean his entire life.

Castiel steps closer, bringing himself to about a foot outside of Dean’s personal space. But on his next inhale, he pauses. Dean watches his face carefully, unsure of what’s going through his mind.

“You—.” Castiel says, his voice a bit deeper. “You smell divine.”

Dean laughs. “Yeah, sure, never had an Alpha hit on me right before he tries to attack me.”

Castiel blinks hard and shakes himself, then pulls a long silver knife out of his jacket sleeve.

Dean smirks and pulls out the handgun. He aims straight and true at Castiel’s chest. “You ever heard the phrase ‘don’t bring a knife to a gun—’”

Before Dean can finish his sentence, Castiel leaps forward and slashes him, cutting his forearm when Dean raises his arm reflexively to protect his face. Dean wobbles on his feet as he tries to avoid getting cut again, too off-balance to take a shot. He flips his grip to club Castiel in the head with the gun instead, but Castiel dodges under him. The knife flashes in the beam of the van’s headlights, and Dean moves around Castiel to avoid it. Castiel anticipates him, and snags his injured arm with his free hand, twisting it to shove Dean’s back against the side of the truck. Shock and pain cause Dean to drop the gun.

Sucking in a breath, he grabs at Castiel, and they wrestle, grasping at each other’s arms and vying for control of the knife. Screwing Castiel’s wrist until he hears the joint crackle, Dean pulls the knife free and throws it across the road. He’s not willing to bet Castiel doesn’t know how to wield that thing with both hands. A fist clocks him in the cheek, and Dean lands one good punch on Castiel’s jaw, and then they’re fighting hand to hand, exchanging blow for blow.

Every hit Dean lands, Castiel growls, snarling like he’s in a rut and looking almost as out of control. It’s definitely _not_ a turn on, nope, even if a part of Dean unashamedly thrills at being the one still standing, at being the one who can break such a proud and strong Alpha’s composure. Hooking an arm around Castiel’s neck, he knocks Castiel's legs out from under him. They both tumble to the ground.

Scratching and kicking at any part they can reach, they roll into the dirt at the side of the road. Dean manages to get his knees clamped around Castiel’s thighs and pin Castiel’s wrists to the ground above his head. Panting hard, he stares down at Castiel, sitting astride his hips, on top and victorious.

The van’s headlights provide the only light, illuminating the specks of dirt and blood smudged across Castiel’s face and casting the rest in harsh shadows. Castiel will have a black eye tomorrow, and one of his eyebrows is crusted with blood. Dean knows the blood in and under his own nose has only half-dried, and there’s likely a gash on his chin. Castiel’s jacket is torn at the shoulder, his tie half-undone, a button missing on his dress shirt. Dean is sure his own outfit is no better.

He is not entirely surprised by the fact that he’s hard. Castiel’s scent is strong, pressed as closely together as they are. He’s an Alpha and smells overwhelmingly of pine trees and rich soil, with a floral scent of arousal. If Dean didn’t know any better, he’d say he can also detect a citrus punch of frustration, but that’s impossible. The arousal makes sense, especially because he can feel Castiel’s erection trapped between them, but frustration? Emotions like that can’t be scented between strangers.

And then Castiel does the weirdest thing. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply through his nose, breathing out with a pleased smile on his face.

“Oh,” he says, as if that’s supposed to make any fucking sense. “This is… unexpected.”

Dean shifts, dick pressed against his thigh uncomfortably. “What are you talking about?”

Castiel appears totally calm, and his scent reflects amusement. Wait, no, Dean shouldn’t be able to smell that sort of thing.

“Your nervousness smells like limes.” Castiel wrinkles his nose in pleasure. “You’re confused. You’re also aroused from our fight and that smells like strawberries. And then pride for having bested me—that’s like dark chocolate.”

Dean bears down on Castiel’s wrists, making him wince as Dean squeezes the sprained one. “I won’t ask you again. What the hell are you talking about?”

“True Mates, Dean.” Castiel huffs a laugh.

Which, holy fucking shit. One the one hand, that’s a good point. He’d learned in school that when you meet your Mate, you’ll know them right away because you’re halfway to scent bonded within hours or even minutes. On the other hand, Dean doesn’t _have_ a True Mate, doesn’t _want_ or _need_ a True Mate, so that can’t be right.

“But—But I’m—You…” Dean trails off. Castiel tilts his chin up towards where Dean’s shirt hangs open, his chest exposed, and he licks right over Dean’s sternum. Dean chokes on his next breath.

“Even if you weren’t my True Mate,” Castiel says serenely, placing gentle kisses up Dean’s collarbones. “You’re gorgeous and strong and _you beat me._ That’s so hot.” He relaxes in Dean’s hold, laying still on the ground once more. “I’m surprised to have found you, certainly surprised that it happened like this, but we’re here now.”

Dean shifts to sit back on Castiel’s thighs and tries not to think about why he doesn’t want to actually remove himself from Castiel’s lap. “Look, buddy—”

“Cas.” The Alpha smiles at him. “Call me Cas. And, yes, fine, our meeting is unusual. I’m aware of that. I don’t expect you to immediately have sex with me just because you’re my True Mate. But you do believe me. Don’t you?” There’s almost something vulnerable in Castiel’s eyes. “Can’t you smell me, too?”

“I…” And for whatever reason, Dean decides to tell him the truth. “Yeah, I can smell you. You were frustrated when I pinned you. You’re still aroused and like…” He thinks about how to describe the clean linen scent. “Hopeful. You’re hopeful about—about this. About me.” It seems nearly too good to be true that Castiel would be _excited_ about the prospect of being with Dean but there it is in his scent. Which Dean can smell. Because he’s Castiel’s True Mate. “What the hell.”

“Indeed,” Cas chuckles and attempts to sit upright. Dean shifts back to help him, and in doing so, finds himself wrapped up by one seriously handsome Alpha. Cas slings one arm around Dean’s waist, the other behind him to prop himself up, and is currently rubbing his nose and open mouth down the side of Dean’s neck. Dean’s knees twinge a bit, but he likes sitting in Cas’s lap, chest to chest, both arms around his shoulders. He likes the closeness and smelling Cas’s utter contentment.

That and he can feel where they are both getting harder. It won’t take much more for his ass to start getting slick. “You still hard for me, Alpha?” Dean shifts his hips ever so slightly, and smirks when Cas whines. “You should take care of that.”

“Is that so? And what about yours, little Omega? Can I touch you?”

“Yeah.” Dean tilts his head back so Cas can continue sucking kisses all around his jaw. “No marks.” He feels Cas’s nod and waves his fingers into those dark, messy locks.

He knows he’ll be covered in Cas’s scent, his arousal, but a mark is too much like a bite, and he can’t risk that right now. Neither of them can. If either of their gangs noticed the bites it would spell trouble, up to and including coercing or harming one in order to get to the other. They’ve only just met but Dean knows he can’t let Cas get hurt because of him. What he can do is push Cas’s ruined suit jacket off of his shoulders and tug on his tie so Cas can kiss him on the mouth. He grinds down just a bit while they continue to kiss, enough to give them both some friction without it being painful. Cas tastes every bit as good as he smells. Their lips meet again and again, heat building steadily. Cas’s tongue pushes past Dean’s to lick the roof of his mouth and Dean lets out a whimper at the sensation. Then Cas’s hands move down to grip his ass and Dean knows he’s got to be leaking enough slick to be noticeable by now.

The moment Cas does notice it is obvious by the way he groans. “God, Dean.” Cas’s voice was deep before; now it sounds heavenly.

“Fuck,” Dean chokes out, biting his own bottom lip.

“That can be arranged,” Cas teases. “Next time.” With that, Cas tugs on his jacket and then on the hem of his shirt; Dean helps him pull them both off before reciprocating. Naked chest to naked chest feels _awesome_ and Dean loses himself in Cas’s scent, in his kisses, and in his large, warm hands mapping Dean’s torso. This is so _not_ how he thought tonight was going to go. Nor how he thought—not that he’d ever spent a lot of time thinking about his True Mate or anything—he’d meet his mate.

Dean’s really about to have sex with his mate for the first time literally on the ground at the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. It’s such an absurd situation he has to laugh, which causes Cas to lean back and squint at him.

“If I’m distracting you, then, by all means…”

“Nah.” Dean pets a hand through Cas’s wild mane of hair. “I was just thinking how this is exactly like all those fairy tales about True Mates making love for the first time. Y’know, silk sheets and rose petals and all that.”

Cas laughs at that, and presses a kiss to Dean’s lips.

“I would. Do that, I mean.” Another kiss to Dean’s nose. “But I find I—” Another to his forehead. “I can’t wait any longer to be with you like this. I simply need to know what you feel like.” Kisses to both eyelids. “Next time we’ll do it right.” His lips again. “But this time I need you too much.”

“Yeah,” Dean breathes, not caring in the least about anything in that sentence other than “next time” and “I need you.”

Cas unbuckles their belts and opens their pants with fervor. And when he takes both of their cocks in one hand, Dean sees stars.

“Fuck,” he moans, eyes fixed on where Cas is flexing his fingers around them.

“You’re so gorgeous, so beautiful,” Cas pants into the air between them, looking into Dean’s face. “Can’t believe it’s you.”

Dean groans and comes hard between them, Cas dropping kisses on his face. Maybe Dean’s a little embarrassed that he came so quickly but Cas is hot and he smells so good and this all feels so _right_ that Dean can’t bring himself to care.

Cas continues stroking himself and Dean can see a good-sized knot growing at the base. He bites at Cas’s earlobe and whispers filth about where Cas can put that knot until he feels Cas stiffen with his orgasm. With a heavy sigh, Cas drops his forehead onto Dean’s shoulder. Dean pushes one hand through Cas’s hair and rubs the other down his spine, relishing their closeness. He’s not even knotted to this Alpha but he’s still sitting in his lap, practically cuddling him.

“As nice as this dirt is,” Cas finally breaks the quiet of their afterglow. “Perhaps we could sit elsewhere?”

Dean chuckles and haphazardly gets to his feet. He offers Cas a hand and pulls him up, then sets about fixing his pants and locating his shirt and jacket. It’s cold now that they’re not wrapped up in each other anymore. It’s also just a bit easier to think clearly about their situation when Dean’s not inundated with the lilac and apple blossom scent of Cas’s arousal and pleasure. The sex was awesome and Cas is no longer trying to kill Dean again so that’s a plus. But what about all the rest? Cas pulls open the sliding door on his van and they sit in the empty space, Cas cross-legged and Dean’s legs dangling out of the door. It’s quiet but Dean’s mind is whirling.

“Do you mind if I smoke?”

Dean blinks. “Uh, no, but uh, do what you want.”

“Not cigarettes.” Cas turns and pulls a small bag out from underneath the driver’s seat. Inside there’s a pipe and a black tube. “Is it still alright if I smoke?”

“You’re fine,” Dean tells him honestly. It’s certainly not the worst thing you can put in your body. Plus why would Dean be in charge of what Castiel can and cannot do? It was polite of him to ask though.

They sit in silence while Cas takes the weed out of the tube and puts some of it in the bowl at the end of the pipe. He withdraws a lighter from the same bag and takes his first pull. And God help Dean but Cas looks really good in the light of that tiny flame, and when he tips his head back to let the smoke fill up his lungs.

“Helps me relax after a fight,” Cas explains. “Well, I should say, after I complete a mission. Take someone out.” He looks at Dean steadily. “You beat me in a nearly fair fight. That’s pretty damn impressive, Dean Winchester.”

“Tha—Hey wait a second.” Dean shoots him a glare. “A _nearly_ fair fight?”

“I started at a distinct disadvantage as you had a gun in your hands and I had a knife.”

“Oh, please. We both know you’ve got a gun around your ankle. Plus you rolled up knowing it was going to be a fight. I didn’t know until you mentioned your boss and Roman.”

“Crowley.” Cas sighs. “He fancies himself Roman’s biggest competition. I can’t say with certainty whether or not that’s true, but he is without a doubt making a go of it. This isn’t the first time I’ve been sent to intercept a delivery to his warehouse.”

 _So that’s where I was then,_ Dean thinks. He’d suspected as much. “Think I’ve been making deliveries for him for a while now. Why the hell are we talking about this anyway?”

Cas smiles but it’s melancholy. “I expect we’ll end up talking about our work an awful lot. I don’t know if we’ll be doing any,” he gestures vaguely with the hand not holding his pipe. “Sabotaging, or whatever. But we can talk about it, I think.”

Dean kind of stares at him. “You were serious about being True Mates?”

Avoiding his eyes, Cas takes an extra long pull and keeps his eyes closed. “It’s obvious that that’s what we are. The problem is where do we go from here. Are you willing to try and negotiate a real relationship with our… lifestyles being what they are?”

Dean can smell Cas’s frustration again, and a wave of sadness like saltwater. Cas genuinely wants them to be together so badly he’s sad thinking that Dean doesn’t want him.

“It’s not that I don’t want you,” Dean says, voice pitched low. “It’s…” So many things. He never thought he’d have a True Mate. He never thought he’d have a _family_ again. Sam’s still out there somewhere, but Dean can’t contact him without placing his life in jeopardy. He’ll be a risk to Cas, just as Cas would be a risk to him if anyone found out about them. “How could we ever make this work?”

Cas looks down at his own lap. “We’d need our own method of communication, something separate from Crowley and Roman. Where does he keep you? I mean, where do you live?”

“I actually haven’t interacted with Roman that much myself.” Once they were both in the same hallway while Dean was helping carry boxes from some truck to another nondescript warehouse, and Roman was there, talking with Gordon and another man in a shadowy corner. Dean had recognized him though from his pictures in the newspaper and had quickly averted his eyes. Don’t look too close, don’t ask questions. “My, uh, day-to-day boss is Gordon Walker.”

“Ah.” Cas makes a noise of recognition. He must notice Dean’s quizzical look because he continues, “I know of him. Former name Sterling Brown, associates with men known as Alastair and Azazel.”

“Uh, yeah?” Dean flounders for a moment, feeling like he’s way out of his depth. How the hell did Cas know all that? Dean didn’t know Gordon had had another name.

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean—I mean you no harm. It’s just information I already know from my work with Crowley. His favorite thing is to learn absolutely everything he can about someone and break them with that information.”

“That isn’t helping, Cas. Has he got information about me?” _About Sam?_ But Cas shakes his head no.

“You I only knew by name, and that you work fixing cars and driving and doing errands for Walker and for Roman. Crowley would consider that not quite important enough for his blackmailing needs. Of course…” Cas cuts himself off with a laugh and takes another hit. Dean watches him, anticipating the end of that sentence. “Once he finds out you’re the Big Bad Omega who beat up his fixer, you’re probably going to be a bit more on his radar.” Dean must look and smell at a bit nervous at that, because Cas continues, “But I’m also the one who compiles research like that, so I promise to keep it as bare as I possibly can. I’m afraid that’s the best I can do.”

Dean nods. He knows somewhere in the complex they’ve certainly got files just like Crowley’s, important information on all of the people they want to keep an eye on. Maybe since Cas is a big shot in his own group they’ve got a record of him somewhere. Dean’s a little impressed and a lot confused by Cas’s apparent shift in loyalty, and says as much.

“Not that I’m not grateful,” he adds. “I’d rather lay low. I just fix up the cars and drive the trucks and I don’t ask any questions or anything. But you’re ready to look out for me? Just like that?”

“Yes, Dean.” Cas lifts his chin defiantly. “Crowley is my boss but I am still capable of my own free will. And you’re my True Mate. What kind of partner would I be if I didn’t at least _try_ to look out for you?” Cas leans over and out the van’s door, tapping the pipe to shake loose the burnt up bits of weed from the bowl. “You don’t exactly need my protection in a fight, but I—well, I’d still like to keep you away from Crowley’s eye as much as possible.”

Dean’s heart flutters in his chest. In a couple of sentences, Cas has acknowledged Dean’s abilities, reinforced his desire for them to have a relationship, and referred to himself as Dean’s _partner._ Not his capital-A Alpha who gets the final say over Dean’s life and decisions, not someone who wants to control Dean and have a silent and deferential Omega. Dean’s dealt with a lot of self-important knotheads in his life (Alastair, to name one) but Cas doesn’t seem to be one of them. He watches Cas clean out his pipe and carefully put all of his things away, realizing that if Cas was being disingenuous and did want to hurt him, he’d be able to scent it.

With that idea in mind, he scoots closer. Cas notices, and when he settles into sitting again, he leaves his legs splayed out in a vee. Dean sits between his knees and leans in, inhaling the strong smell of the marijuana but also Cas’s natural pine tree scent. Cas smiles at him.

“I’m glad that you can tell I’m not lying. You’re amazing to me, and I’m fascinated by you. I—I’m willing to give this a chance.”

“Me too, Cas.” Dean smiles back. “I like you. And you, uh, you really like me.”

“Yes.” Cas reaches out to hold his hand. “Yes. I like you and want you because you pinned me and you’re beautiful and I want to know you. I want us to care for each other.”

Dean couldn’t stop smiling if you’d threatened him. They grin at each other like idiots and for a whole ten seconds Dean feels perfectly, utterly happy.

And then a cell phone rings and the spell is broken.

It’s Cas’s, and he squints at it with enough venom that Dean’s surprised it doesn’t explode.

“I am…expected.” He sighs. “My team will want to know where I am.”

“This is so fucked up.” Dean rubs his free hand down his face. “You’re _right here_ saying all these things I’ve wanted to hear, but we can’t be together.”

Pulling on his hand urgently, Cas argues, “I think we can, Dean. I do. It won’t be easy. We’ll need new phones and we’ll have to be very, very careful. But if you want this as badly as I do, I think we can do it.”

“I don’t think so, Cas.” He feels weak, sick to his stomach at the thought of never seeing Cas again. “I don’t know.”

Cas tugs Dean into his chest and settles them into a tight embrace. They are quiet for a few moments. It’s dim in here, since the headlights are shining out onto the side of Dean’s truck and onto the ground between the vehicles. Everything is quiet and still inside, and Dean wishes he knew what the right answer is supposed to be. He wants Cas; he can feel it in his gut. But they cannot be together, not like this.

“Can we make a deal?” Cas murmurs into Dean’s hair at the crown of his head. “Can we meet again in three days? Right here? In the meantime, we could get burner phones, just simple ones. In cash so no one finds out. We can… take some time. Think about this. And in three days we can discuss it again. Decide to use the phones, keep in touch, see what a relationship could be like. Or not.” Cas’s scent goes sour at the implication, but it’s there, it’s an option. If Dean is still wary three days from now, Cas won’t push it. Either they agree to be together or they agree to be apart.

“All right. We can do that.” Dean can smell Cas’s joy wash over the two of them like a burst of cranberry juice, and he revels in his ability to bring that out of Cas. His Alpha, if Dean wants him to be. God, does Dean want him to be. “You will be able to explain this, right? I’ll just tell them the truth, I beat up the guy who was sent to kill me.”

Cas pinches his arm but he’s smiling. “Oh yes, I’ll have to let them know about the huge scary Omega who bested me.”

“Damn right. In all seriousness though, maybe it’d be best not to say anything about your gang though. I mean I’m sure Gordon knows about your gang, but I don’t want to say anything that could get back to you. Maybe I’ll just say that we got in an accident.”

“Okay. If that’s what you think is best.”

Concerned, Dean asks, “You’ll be fine, right? Like they’re not going to hurt you or anything?”

Cas must smell the genuine fear, because he rubs at the back of Dean’s neck in a soothing gesture. “Yes, Dean, I’ll be perfectly alright. Crowley will get a kick out of teasing me for not being able to overpower you, but nothing serious.”

Dean nods, satisfied. “I need to be getting back soon. I’ll need to fix up the truck a bit before I leave though. You have time to stay?”

“Yes,” Cas assures him. “I’m looking forward to watching you work.” Dean flushes, extricates himself from Cas’s embrace, and hops out of the van. He offers Cas his hand to help him stand up, and, feeling a bit shy, pecks him right on the mouth. Cas just grins toothily at him before pulling him in for another kiss.

When Dean finally makes his way back to the compound, he finds Gordon right away and lets him know that the delivery wasn’t completed.

“Some jackass damn near ran me off the road,” he elaborates. “Dude’s answering a text instead of paying attention and hit the side of the truck. I managed to fix up both our vehicles enough to get out of there, but I wasn’t gonna make it to the warehouse like that. Too suspicious.”

Gordon chews his lip, thinking. Azazel scowls at him. Dean just focuses on not thinking about exactly how he and Cas spent their time prior to him fixing up the van well enough that Cas could get himself back to Crowley’s place. Cas had _promised_ that he would be able to talk his way out of any consequences but Dean still feels queasy at the idea that his Alpha could get in trouble for what happened.

Alastair enters the room. “It’s all still there boss,” he tells Gordon. “Nothing’s been taken.” Ah, yes, Gordon had to check and make sure Dean didn’t steal whatever it was he was supposed to be delivering. Like he would be that stupid.

Gordon sighs, “Fine, okay.” He lowers himself into a chair by the table and looks Dean up and down. “Was that before or after you let him fuck you?”

Dean fights to keep the fear off his face and out of his scent. “After. Seemed like a good enough distraction to keep him from asking after my license and registration.”

Gordon hums. “True enough. Guy was certainly hurting for it; he’s left his scent all over you. Go shower and go to bed. We’ll deal with this tomorrow.” Dean nods and exits the room as quickly as possible.

Two days later, Dean comes strolling out of the Gas ‘N Sip near his garage, putting on as much of a “cool as a cucumber” façade as he can manage. He’d made two separate purchases, a few snacks paid for by debit card, and a cell phone paid for with cash. The phone is completely basic, and it looks entirely anonymous. If all goes well, Gordon won’t even know he has it.

He sits in his car in the parking lot for longer than he’ll ever admit out loud. The plan is a solid one, neither gang can track the new phones, so Dean and Cas will be able to have private conversations with one another. But the _reason_ they want to have private conversations is what’s eating away at Dean. Finding and being with your True Mate is a fairy tale. Something parents tell their children at night or sappy gross newlyweds promise each other or even something used as an excuse to break up. Maybe in his early twenties Dean had wondered what it would be like to have someone who loved him unconditionally—John certainly hadn’t, and Sammy could only love him as much as a teenage boy can love his older brother who essentially raised him. That’s a different kind of love from the one that Dean, in his more vulnerable moments, can admit that he craves.

What he really wants is to have a _partner._ Someone who values him and his voice, who will love and respect him. Maybe fight with him or call him out when it’s necessary. But always because they care about him. He wants to do the same for that person, to be there for them and to support them.

Could Cas really be that person for Dean? A hopeful flame in his heart whispers _yes_ just thinking about it. Cas had said as much that night, but was that just residual pheromones from their sex? Cas is strong and smart and sexy, which is a great combination, and they’d been able to scent bond so easily. They’re sexually compatible for sure, but how can Dean know if they’ll be compatible about other things? Not to mention their occupations are literally at odds with one another. Perhaps the only way to find out is to meet up again and to keep talking.

He’s still mulling it over when he enters the garage. Ash rolls out from underneath the car he’s working on in order to shout at Dean, “You’d better lay off those fake chicken sandwiches, Winchester, they’re shit for your health.”

Dean flips him the bird. “Those things are delicious and you know it. And don’t tell me what to do, Ash!” Dude just laughs and tucks himself back under the car.

Safely hidden in the break room, Dean opens up his nachos (a much healthier alternative, thanks very much) and hides the new phone in his bag. He’s turned it on, but without Cas’s phone number, it’s a paper weight.

Dean works through the rest of his shift comfortably. He and Ash focus on the three vehicles waiting for their attention: an oil change, a regular service for a minivan, and the start to repairs on a totaled trailer truck. Which of course only leads to Dean thinking about Castiel some more. Cas who he gets to see again soon. Hopefully he’ll get to kiss him some more, Dean’s been thinking about his pink lips. And those eyes and his tan skin and those hands and that hair.

“Who’re you thinking about?” Ash’s question cuts through Dean’s wandering thoughts abruptly.

“Uh…” He stammers, unsure.

“M’not judging,” Ash tells him with a friendly smile. “Really. It’s just that your scent has shifted a bit and you’ve got this lovesick dopey look—”

Dean throws a greasy towel at him.

“C’mon man, nothing?” Ash teases good-naturedly, but Dean can’t help but feel nervous. He’s not 100% sure that this isn’t a gang-owned business. Maybe Ash is involved with them just like he is, and that’s why they’re working here together. To be spies and be spied on. Then again no one’s asked him to report in about Ash. But who knows.

“He’s, uh, he’s interesting.” Better to be as vague as possible, and pretend like he’s not blushing like a tomato. “Tough but also kind. Real good-looking. Witty.”

“Awww,” Ash cooes. “Sounds like you got it bad, Winchester. Smells like it, too.”

“You asked!” Dean cries, throwing down his wrench. “You can finish this up yourself you ass.” He doesn’t get far, just leaves Ash to finish buffing out the damage while he inspects the tires and underneath the hood. Later he turns down Ash’s invitation to grab a bite after they close up shop and heads back to the complex.

It’s not anything special really, just a pair of modified warehouses with lofts and workout rooms and locked-door meeting rooms and even more secure torture rooms. Dean heads to his own living space and gets ready for bed. Tomorrow he’ll finally deliver that truckload from Thursday night, and it’s also the day he’ll see Cas again. It’s too early to sleep but he’s too worked up about their meeting to do anything else. Dean sketches in one of his notebooks, listens to rock music, and generally thinks about Cas.

Sunday dawns dreary but Dean is more than ready to start the day. Fortunately, he’s got a whole five hours at the garage to keep himself occupied. Then Dean takes to the complex’s gym, followed by a nice long shower. He eats an early dinner, reads two entire newspapers, and changes his outfit four times before the clock tells him it’s time to leave.

Stepping out into the hallway, Dean nods at Azazel, who had obviously been sent to see that Dean was ready to leave. Azazel looks at him with beady eyes and repeats Gordon’s instructions from a few days ago.

“34th Avenue. Get out, knock, and get back in until you’re told to leave. Gordon is busy tonight, but you will report to him tomorrow.”

Dean replies in the affirmative and departs. He’d planned out his timetable so that he could make the delivery in a timely manner, and take a detour on the way back. They just need to meet long enough to have a conversation. If they agree to try and be together, they’ll exchange phone numbers; hopefully Cas was able to stay out of trouble and get his hands on a burner phone, too. These past few days with zero contact have been oddly stressful, and Dean can’t put his finger on how to resolve that. Hopefully the phones will help. He pats his own where it rests in an inner pocket of his jacket. But that’s only if Cas wants to give a relationship a try as much as Dean can finally admit to himself that he does.

Dean follows his instructions to a tee. Whoever it is that’s unloading his truck is relatively quiet, and Dean simply plays Solitaire on his phone until he hears the knock he was told to expect. Without looking back, he drives.

Upon locating the bit of road where they’d first met, Dean can see the headlights of a car. Not a van this time, just a simple four door sedan. And Cas is there, leaning against the door, looking calm as can be. Dean is envious; he feels like a nervous wreck inside. Was that first time just a fluke? While True Mates are kind of the norm—if you have one and you find them, you’re with them—Dean’s never thought about finding his. And in their line of work, a Mate would be a liability, a weapon to use against either of them. They have every reason to stop it now, to walk away and say goodbye.

That logical train of thought is quickly derailed when Dean parks the truck, steps out into the cool night air, and approaches Castiel.

“Hey,” he greets.

“Hello, Dean.” The sound of Cas’s voice makes Dean feel calm in his bones, which is ridiculous and stupid and _right._

“Got your phone?” he asks, pulling out his own. Cas nods and shifts to stand on his feet. He moves towards Dean with a graceful air and doesn’t stop until he’s placed one hand on Dean’s chest.

“I missed you,” Cas admits into the space between them, and Dean forgets to breathe. He brings his other hand up to rest on Cas’s hip.

“Me too. That’s pretty stupid right?”

“Completely.” Cas gives him a lopsided smirk. “But here we are.”

“Yeah,” Dean replies eloquently. He taps his fingers against Cas’s hipbone beneath the layers of trench coat, jacket, button down, and Cas continues to smile at him.

After a few minutes of enjoying each other’s presence, Dean has to know how it went down with Cas and his gang that night.

“They bought it,” he tells Cas. “But Gordon knew we’d, uh…” He blushes.

“Had sex?” Cas smiles at him, eyes bright.

“I think his words were ‘hurting for it’ and ‘left his scent all over you,’ but, yeah.”

Cas scoffs. “Sounds like Walker wouldn’t know romance if it bit him on the nose.”

“The _point_ is,” Dean continues, but not without grinning and squeezing Cas’s hip. “I was fine. How did it go for you?”

“As expected.” Cas sighs. “Crowley teased me for your overpowering me—” Dean smirks and Cas smacks his shoulder. “But he believed me. I’ve not had a reason to lie to him before so why would I start now?”

Something seems off about Cas’s tone so, against his better judgement, Dean says, “You, uh, you don’t sound too happy about that.”

Cas chews on his bottom lip. “It’s… odd, I guess. This life, being Crowley’s fixer, it’s all I’ve known for so long. Every day is another test, another action I need to take to prove myself.” Cas meets his eyes. “But meeting you was like, I don’t know, waking up? I’d had no inkling of the possibility of another life, of having someone in my life who I didn’t expect to be asked to kill me at some point by our boss. Someone whom I didn’t mostly distrust. These past three days…” Cas cuts himself off, looking almost bashful. “I believe I am getting ahead of myself, though. Have you thought any more about us? About True Mates?”

“Well I bought the phone, didn’t I?” Dean says, gesturing with the device in his palm, forcing nonchalance into his voice. Cas nods, retrieving his own from the pocket of his trench coat. Dean plucks it from his hand and types in the new number, sending himself a quick “x” so he has Cas’s number. When he looks up, Cas is grinning at him.

“I’m happy that you agree.” Cas leans in to nuzzle at the side of Dean’s neck. “You’re nervous but you’re happy, too, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, a little breathless. Cas’s happiness fills the air like soil and fresh grass, and Dean hates feeling like he needs to be the practical one here. “But it’s, like, this is really stupid?”

“Crazy, perhaps,” Cas agrees. “But not stupid. I think we’re meant to be together, and that trying to do that is the right thing to do.”

“Even though we’re in two different gangs, Cas?” Dean argues. “I mean come on, the stakes are a hell of a lot higher for us than for normal people.”

“That is true.” Cas grips the fabric of Dean’s shirt tightly and pulls their chests closer together. “The stakes are high. But this is only ours, you and me, and if we want it, then we owe it to ourselves to try. I want to try.”

“Me too.” It’s the only thing that Dean could possibly say.

Cas leans in to plant a gentle kiss on his mouth, and Dean winds his arms around those broad shoulders. They lean back against the side of Dean’s truck and they kiss until they need to separate for air. Foreheads resting together, Dean breathes in Alpha contentment and runs his hands down Cas’s arms. Maybe this is doomed to fail, but he’s going to enjoy every single minute he can get until that happens.

Cas hums and then breaks the quiet. “Would you smoke with me, Dean?”

Dean hesitates for a moment before nodding. Cas rewards him with a lovely smile, stepping back and around his car to pull out the same bag from last time. He packs the bowl with a practiced ease and Dean holds the lighter, then uses it to give Cas the first pull. While he holds his breath, Cas tilts his head back, eyes closed, and Dean marvels at the beauty of his skin, the column of his neck, the dark eyelashes against his tanned cheeks. Cas exhales and hands the pipe to Dean, who takes a good hit before passing it back.

They go back and forth only twice more before Cas asks Dean about shotgunning.

“Hell yeah,” is Dean’s enthusiastic response. “You wanna pull?”

Cas agrees and brings the pipe to his lips. He never drops eye contact with Dean as he lights the weed and inhales, opening and closing the choke a few times. Dean moves forward to where Cas is leaning against his car door, pressing himself against Cas’s front. Cas lifts his chin and their lips just barely touch. Dean eyes flutter shut as he accepts Cas’s exhale into his mouth, into his lungs, but he opens them again to hold Cas’s hot gaze while he exhales the smoke out of his nose.

“Impressive,” Cas mutters and leans back to light up again. They repeat the shotgun, but this time when Dean exhales from his open mouth, Cas captures his lips in a soft kiss. Dean wonders if he’s getting more intoxicated from the marijuana or from Cas’s scent and his kisses and his skin under Dean’s hands. They get naked languidly, carefully, taking the time to touch every exposed bit of skin. Last time had been a bit rushed, a bit desperate. This feels more like a casual, well-practiced affair. Like it’s something they know they will get to do again. The thought of it makes Dean feel warm from his hair to his toes.

Of course that could also be the drugs hitting his system; he doesn’t smoke much weed so it’s coming on a bit strong. He feels floaty and giggly as Cas trails long fingers up Dean’s thighs, presses his mouth to Dean’s stomach and chest, pinches Dean’s nipples and bites his jaw and his earlobe. Cas has him soaring through the clouds before he’s even got a hand on Dean’s cock, whispering both dirty fantasies and sweet nothings into his ear. Dean’s gorgeous. Can’t wait to taste his ass. Most beautiful green eyes in the world. Gonna look so good on the end of Cas’s knot. Dean comes just listening to the rumble of his Alpha’s voice and feeling his hand hot around his dick, pumping steadily. Cas grinds his into the crease of Dean’s hip, panting and moaning, finally coming when Dean wakes up enough to get his fingers in Cas’s hair and _tug._

Cas slumps onto Dean’s prone body and takes deep breaths. Dean takes the opportunity to rub both hands up and down Cas’s back and shoulders, paying attention to the areas that make his Alpha sigh with pleasure.

“I, ah, I thought about marking you.” Dean’s still feeling a bit hazy, so he just makes a noise of confusion at Cas’s words. “Not like a bite or anything, just… a hickey. Maybe a nibble.”

Dean snorts and runs his fingers through Cas’s hair. “Well thanks for not, y’know, biting me on our second date.” Cas rolls his eyes. “It would be…” He trails off, uncertain.

“It would certainly make things more complicated.” Cas props his chin up with one hand. “You can explain a hickey and your bosses can say horrible things, but it wouldn’t be the same as if you showed up with a mating bite.” With his other hand, Cas trails one finger across Dean’s collarbone and over his shoulder. “Don’t get me wrong, I _want_ to mate you properly. But I can’t risk putting you in harm’s way.”

That burns deep down in Dean’s soul, but he knows that it’s right because Cas doesn’t get hurt this way. Maybe nobody finds out about their relationship at all, and the two of them can stay safe. Dean’s chest aches with his desire to both keep Castiel safe and to keep him close, to hold his hand and get to know him and exchange kisses and stories and everything in between.

They lay together in the back of the van for several more minutes, quietly sharing breaths. When it’s time to leave, Dean does so feeling optimistic. Cas says that he smells like freshly baked bread and happiness; Dean spends the whole night dreaming about Cas’s elegant hands, pine trees bathed in sunlight, and the smells of bread and honey.

**Author's Note:**

> on tumblr [here](http://profound-boning.tumblr.com/post/160370856727/) and [here](http://profound-boning.tumblr.com/post/160896122249/)


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